Together Again
by Laree England
Summary: It has been a thousand years since Arthur's death, and Merlin is still waiting for him. Until he wakes with a renewed sense of purpose, which could only mean one thing: Arthur has returned. A reuniting fic for Merlin and Arthur's friendship.


**So I wrote this after I watched the finale mainly to make myself feel better, so if it seems a bit off, emotioninfused, disjointed, or all of the above, my bad!**

**Reviews are always lovely!**

Merlin awoke with a jolt. The harsh movement caused small shots of pain to go off like shotguns in his old joints, but that was nothing he was not used to. A loud truck passed on the street outside, but he knew that that was not what had woken him. His chest rose and fell painfully, a feeling that he had not had in a thousand years filling his abdomen to the point that it left very little space for breath. This was a feeling that he had known in his younger years, when Camelot had been his home, when his friends were alive. A feeling that he had longed to possess again for a thousand years.

A sense of purpose.

He had had a purpose for those thousand years, but not one he could necessarily do anything to achieve. He had had to simply _wait_. He had been born to protect the man who had become his best friend, his brother even, but he was gone. He had no real purpose. But he still had a destiny: to protect the man again once he returned. And this feeling he had... this feeling of returned and renewed purpose... It could only mean one thing.

Merlin was so happy that he felt that he could cry. A thousand years he had waited for this. He had watched all his loved ones pass away, a great kingdom rise and fall, the advancement of the world and technology. All the while he had waited. But, now, the waiting was finally over.

Merlin lifted the thin sheet that covered him from his body, setting it aside. He had lived modestly, never taking more than he needed. He saw no need to possess any of the new technology that the world had developed: a car, a cellular phone, a television, and so forth. It held no interest to him. If he had to get somewhere, he could walk. Communication capabilities held no lure for him. Everyone he would ever want to talk to had died long ago.

Through the small window in his one-room apartment he could see that the sun was rising up, and a smile pulled at his features, an expression that now felt foreign to him. It wouldn't surprise him if he hadn't smiled in hundreds of years. The sun colored the thin clouds, setting the dawn of a new day.

_The dawn of a new age_, Merlin corrected, the smile lighting his ever-young eyes.

He stood, dressing himself in a pair of jeans and a tight jacket, making sure to not get his beard caught in the zipper. He grasped the walking stick that was leaning against the wall, one of the few things that still tethered him to his past life. His old neckerchief and other articles of clothing had worn down, soon becoming unwearable. He had rather hoped that when this day came he would be wearing his old uniform, but such setbacks were almost like subtext in his mind. Nothing could dampen his spirits today.

He hobbled from his apartment, which was fortunately already at ground-level, so there was no need for him to brave the stairs. He strode down the road, the brisk morning air pinching his aged cheeks affectionately. His heart pounded against his chest with excitement, and, if his old bones would have allowed him, he would have begun to skip in joy. The smile had not left his face and he walked as fast as he could, down the old road and to the docks.

Merlin took cautious steps onto the dock and wobbled down the middle stretch. There had been one piece of technology he had splurged on, something he had purchased in preparation for this day. A rickety old motorboat rested peacefully at the end of the dock, waiting for him.

"Max!" a young voice greeted.

The young, dark-haired woman waved at him from the end of the walkway, sitting in a fold-out chair, an empty seat next to her. She came out every morning, the seat beside her open to anyone who enjoyed watching the sun come over the lake. Merlin, or Max, as the woman knew him, had become a regular. Sitting at the end of the dock, watching the day come into being over the little island, had brought him peace, had made the waiting a little easier to bear.

"Morgan," Merlin nodded, continuing up the walkway. He had been unsettled the first time he had seen her, what with her eerie resemblance to Morgana and her similar name. She reminded him of the peaceful Morgana, though, full of love, light, and protection for those she cared about.

She smiled and patted the seat next to her. "Care to join me?"

Merlin reached the end of the walkway, standing tall with his walking stick in his hand, looking out to the tower that had become his best friend's tomb.

"Not today, Morgan."

Morgan shifted in her seat, looking up at him with a curious expression on her face. "Are you... Are you smiling?" a chuckle was embedded in her words as she stared up at him.

Merlin's grin widened and he looked down at her. "It is a beautiful day, Morgan. One I have waited for for a long time."

She raised a brow at the old man, shaking her head. "Care to explain?"

Merlin shook his head, looking back out at the tower. "You shall understand soon. The whole world will," he took a breath, nodding his head. "I think I am going to take out my boat out today."

He stepped inside, starting up the boat. Morgan watched him, shaking her head at his ridiculousness.

"And Morgan?"

"Hm?" she looked at him, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

"Thank you."

He backed out of his slip, turning the front towards the island. His heart pounded again, his hopes raised as high as the stars. Then the doubt began to set in. What if this was a false alarm? What if he was still cold as stone in there? What if the promises of his return were just a false hope? These questions didn't hold reign in his mind for long, however. His faith and trust in his friend was too great.

He sped towards the island, the water fanning out behind him, his white hair whipping in the wind, the lake's spray dusting his ancient face. It seemed to take an eternity to finally reach the island, just as long as those thousand years he had already gone through, but, finally, the nose of his boat touched the grassy shore, and once Merlin had gained his bearings back, he dismounted the boat and walked up the slowly sloping hill that led to the tower, walking to the impressive oaken door. Merlin took a deep breath, resting a hand on the metal handle. For the first time in hundreds of years, he allowed the Old Religion to flow back through him, vibrating down his arm and buzzing in his fingertips.

"_Aliese_," he whispered, his eyes shining gold.

The door clicked, granting him access. He stepped inside, beginning to speedily hobble down the hall and to the stairs he knew that his best friend was located at the top of, but he drew up short. He looked down at himself, the sagging and weathered skin on his hands and the long wispy flow of his beard reminding him of his appearance. His head raised again, and he rested his walking stick up against the stone wall, standing up strong on his own. He drew a deep breath and closed his eyes, allowing the Old Religion to douse him in magic. Already he felt his bent back straightening out, his muscles becoming stronger, the pain in his joints going away, the white hair that descended past his shoulders receding back. Merlin raised a pale hand to the top of his head, feeling his short raven-black hair under his finger tips. He brought his hand back down and fisted his hands at his sides, sprinting up the stairs.

Another door awaited Merlin, but he knew a simple unlocking spell would not work. He had set the protection upon it himself, after all. There was no door handle, just the wood of the door in its frame. He placed both hands upon the door, closing his eyes.

_"Ic i cume for se áhafennes Arthur Pendragon, álíefednes ic capitol swá ic canne ic i ámundae hine, hine sy mín, Emrys, ealdorlegu." **(Translation: I have come for Arthur Pendragon. Allow me to pass so that I may protect him, for he is my, Emrys's,**_** destiny)**

Magically, the door swung open slowly, though there were no hinges. His heart sped up to such a level that it felt like it was going to break from behind his ribcage and escape his chest.

A man in silver chainmaille and red garb lie atop a stone table, untouched by time and decay. There was a horrible moment where everything, including Merlin, was unbearably still. Then, as if with the power of thunder and lightening, his eyes opened.

Merlin's hand clasped over his mouth, his body shaking as tears began to develop in his eyes. The man blinked, trying to get his bearings. With caution and uncertainty, as slow as time itself, he moved his head to the right, looking to the doorway in which Merlin stood. He swallowed, his lips parting, the concept of words and language returning to him.

"Merlin."

The sound of Arthur's cracked voice brought Merlin so much joy that he actually laughed. His hand dropped from his mouth, the tears tumbling out from his eyes and somersaulting down his cheeks as he smiled wider than he had in his entire life.

"Arthur!"

Merlin ran to him, helping the past king sit up. Arthur rubbed his forehead, blinking and coming back to himself. Tears continued to drop from Merlin's eyes as his hand that was on the king's chest felt breath draw in and release.

Arthur was alive. He had returned. All was well with the world, in Merlin's opinion. Then again... It had been prophesied that Arthur would return when he was needed most, which would imply that the land was in danger, based on Arthur's revival. But Merlin pushed this from his mind at the moment. Arthur was back, breathing, living, and in Merlin's arms. The world could be burning or flooding for all he cared.

"You saved my life," Arthur said, looking up at Merlin.

Merlin's head slowly shook. "No, Arthur... I didn't."

"But..." Arthur looked down at himself, trying to confirm that he was alive. A thought occurred to him and he looked sharply to Merlin, worry marring his face. "You didn't die, too, did you?"

Merlin shook his head again, "No."

Arthur nodded, his breath steadying. "Good. Uh..." he quickly thought of something to mask his sudden show of concern for Merlin as a habit. "I thought I had been locked in Hell with you for an eternity."

Merlin chuckled a little and shook his head. Nothing had changed, and he couldn't be more glad. When he looked back up, however, Arthur was looking over at him, his eyes full of pride. Merlin stared right back, still grinning through his tears. Arthur reached up and put a hand on the back of Merlin's head, a side of his mouth lifting up into a sad smile.

"My little sorcerer," he whispered.

That's when Merlin broke. His head dropped onto Arthur's shoulder, his body crushed with the weight of the emotions that had been trapped inside of him for a thousand years. Arthur's arms were ready to catch him, holding him strongly and protectively. Arthur's chainmaille was cold on Merlin's forehead, and his tears filtered through the rings and onto Arthur's undershirt.

"I failed you," Merlin said thickly, bringing on another wave of tears.

"No, Merlin. I'm here, aren't I?"

"I should have killed Mordred when I had the chance. I should not have let anything stop me. It was in my power. It was my destiny to protect you..."

"Which you did since the day I met you," Arthur said, stroking the back of Merlin's head. "I know that now."

Merlin shook for a while longer, his only comfort coming from the rise and fall of Arthur's chest. When he was able to control himself, he sat up next to Arthur, wiping his left eye, Arthur's gloved hand reaching to wipe the right.

"Sorry," Merlin apologized for his outburst.

Arthur didn't reply to the apology. "So, if I'm not dead, and you claim you didn't save me... What am I, exactly?"

Merlin looked up at him, his lips pressing into a line. "It's a good thing you're sitting down."

Arthur's brows scrunched as Merlin drew in his breath.

"It's been a thousand years since your death, Arthur."

Arthur's eyes widened and his brows raised high behind his bangs as Merlin spoke.

"I have been waiting for you to return, when Albion needed you most."

Arthur stared at Merlin in silence for a moment before finding the strength to ask. "Guinevere? The knights?"

Merlin could only shake his head.

Arthur's breath rushed out from him and he pinched the bridge of his nose. Merlin stared down at his hands in his lap, waiting as Arthur came to terms with his new reality. After a few minutes, Merlin felt Arthur's hand squeeze his forearm. Their eyes met, and Merlin was shocked to see that Arthur's eyes weren't even rimmed with red, making Merlin feel slightly ashamed for his show of emotion only a few minutes before. Arthur used his eyes to assure Merlin that he was alright.

"You waited for me? For... A thousand years?"

Merlin nodded, smirking a little. "Yeah, though I'm not sure you're worth all the trouble."

A small smile cracked on Arthur's lips, making Merlin feel proud that, even after a thousand years without any practice, he could still make the king smile in the worst of times.

"I'd ask how in the world that's possible, but, after seeing what you did to the Saxons, I'm not sure that it exactly surprises me."

Merlin watched him fondly for a moment before saying, "It's a different world out there, Arthur."

Arthur nodded, silent for a moment.

"What is it?"

"Do you still have magic?"

Merlin blinked. "Yes, Arthur, very much so."

Arthur nodded again, playing with the hem of his chainmaille. "And, magic, is it, is it practiced openly now? Was I the only one you told?"

Merlin took a moment before responding. "No, Arthur, to both. Like I said, times are different. The Old Religion magic has all but died out, staying with me alone. Magic now is something that is made of cheap tricks for entertainment and shows now. As for after you died... Guinevere knew about my magic by the time I had made it back to Camelot. Gaius must have told her, although he said that he didn't tell her directly. She's a brilliant one, Guinevere. The only one to figure it out on her own. She made sure that the law against magic was withdrawn... And I became Court Sorcerer."

"That's good, Merlin." Arthur looked down at his hands as he processed this. "Guinevere. Did she ever remarry?"

Merlin shook his head. "She refused to. And there was no need for her to."

"She did not continue the line?"

"She..." Merlin drew his bottom lip into his mouth, avoiding Arthur's gaze. Arthur waited, and Merlin could tell there would be no way to get out of this conversation and took a deep breath. "She gave birth to Prince Loholt six months after your death."

Arthur's lips parted silently. "I had a son?"

"One of the bravest knights of the round table. He was so proud to have you as a father. You were his inspiration, he carried himself tall in the knowledge that his father had died to restore peace to Camelot. The knights... _Your_ knights, they kind of became his collective father and big brothers." he smiled at the precious memory of the knights rough housing with the little boy, the proud looks on their faces when he was knighted, how they made him ride backwards on his horse the first time that he went out with them. "Especially Percival," he chuckled, remembering it, then he grew a little somber when he remembered that the reason he had become so attached to Loholt was because of his loss of Gwaine. "I swear Lo was held for the majority of younger life, hardly ever slept in his crib, he was always passed from knight to knight. I watched over him, too. He always asked me to tell him stories of your greatest adventures, the ones about when you and I went on adventures alone were his favorite," Merlin smiled more as he remembered how Loholt would spend five minutes deciding which story he wanted to hear again. "Lo was always so ready to learn. He loved ma—"

Merlin stopped.

"Magic," Arthur finished for him.

Merlin bowed his head, almost in shame, mumbling, "Couldn't get enough of it."

Arthur was silent.

Merlin felt the need to explain himself. "He only ever thought of magic as something beautiful, never of the evil side of magic that you only ever seemed to encounter. Was bloody terrible at it, though, but he was wonderful with a sword..." Merlin sighed. "I am sorry, Arthur."

"I am pleased."

Merlin blinked up at him. "What?"

"If I had a son who was raised under your influence, who grew up only knowing of the compassionate side of magic that you were able to show me... I could not have wished for anything better. Thank you."

"I-I... I was happy to protect him. He looked almost exactly like you, just with Guinevere's hair..."

They sat in silence, while Arthur mouthed his son's name and was undoubtedly trying to imagine him.

"Did he become a good king?" Arthur asked quietly.

"He was a just king."

"I bet you saw to that personally," Arthur said.

Merlin bit his lower lip. "Arthur, I... I only experienced Lo's reign from outside Ealdor. I left the castle before I could see anyone..." he trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence in Arthur's undoubtedly fragile state of mind.

Arthur watched him. "I understand. No one should have to go through what you did."

They sat in silence once again for several minutes as Arthur gathered his thoughts and formed his next question.

"And... What of Camelot?"

Merlin put a hand on one of Arthur's shoulders. "Why don't you see for yourself?"

They stood together, starting to walk out. Merlin whirled back around quickly, making Arthur almost stumble into his back.

"You might want to leave that here," he said, pointing at Arthur's chainmaille.

"What?" he asked, looking down at himself. "My armor?"

"Not exactly every-day garb nowadays," Merlin explained.

Arthur seemed to notice Merlin's clothing for the first time. After staring for a moment, he shook his head.

"It's weird to see you without a neckerchief, Merlin."

"My apologies, Sire," Merlin replied.

God, how he had missed this.

Arthur just stared at him, shaking his head. "Didn't even know you _had_ a neck under there."

Arthur turned and walked back to the table, Merlin trailing close behind.

Merlin laughed breathily, beginning to undo Arthur's armor. "I am a sorcerer, Arthur, not an alien. Would you rather have me as Dragoon? Or Dolma?"

Arthur looked up sharply. "That was _you_?"

Merlin scratched his forehead, feeling his cheeks heat up. "Yeah..."

Arthur shook his head. "I am _never _going to get used to this, or know everything that you've done for me, am I?"

"Probably not," Merlin said, lifting Arthur's armor over his head.

Arthur watched Merlin as he worked around him, falling right back into their old routine. Surely, as soon as they walked from this tower, Merlin would stop acting as a servant. Surely, now, they were equals, maybe Merlin even above Arthur, what with his powers. He hoped that their friendship would not change, even now that Arthur knew that Merlin had been lying to him since day one, even if he had to come to terms with the fact that Merlin was stronger than he was, even in this new Albion and, as Merlin had said, its dire need.

Arthur's chainmaille slipped from his body and Merlin set it on the table. Arthur removed his gloves and set them atop the armor.

"Ready?" Merlin asked, turning slightly towards the door.

"As I'll ever be."

.

.

.

They stepped out onto the grass of the island, the boat obediently waiting for them on the shore. Merlin guided Arthur down the slope and to the boat, boarding first and holding out a hand to help Arthur in, but Arthur boarded on his own.

"I've come back from the dead, Merlin, I'm not a girl," he said indignantly.

"Sorry," Merlin said, moving towards the motor and sitting down. Arthur sat on the bench opposite of him, eyeing the motor.

"What is that?"

"You'll see."

Merlin started the boat and Arthur jumped, nearly falling off of the bench. Merlin laughed, beginning to coax the motor to back them off of the shore.

"Is that sorcery?"

Merlin laughed again. "No, Arthur, it's called a motor."

Arthur looked extremely unsettled as they crossed. Merlin thought of Excalibur, who was underneath the lake's water, waiting to be claimed again by Arthur, but Merlin thought it might be better to retrieve it later.

They approached the dock and Merlin guided it into the slip. He tied the boat to the dock and dismounted it, waiting for Arthur to do the same, but the king seemed slightly shaken up.

"What was that about not being a girl?" Merlin teased.

"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur said, holding his hand out. Merlin grasped it strongly, pulling Arthur up and out.

"If that gets you rattled, wait till you see the roads."

Arthur brushed off his shirt. "I'm not sure I want to."

"Hey!"

Merlin whirled and felt like slapping himself. Morgan stood there, looking confused, cross, and worried all at once.

"Who are you? Where'd you come from? Where's Max?"

"_Morgana!_" Arthur hissed, reaching to his side out of instinct, but grasping at empty space; Excalibur rested in the depths of the lake below.

Morgan took a step, her expression changing to a frightened one. Arthur began to storm forwards, ready to take her down with his bare hands, but Merlin stopped him.

"Arthur!" he grunted, grasping the front of his shirt and pushing him back. "That is not Morgana!"

Arthur wrenched himself free from Merlin, glaring at the girl in silent distate.

"What is going on?" Morgan asked, looking between the two boys.

Merlin took a step towards her. "Morgan, calm down. Max is fine."

"Is he on that island?" she wondered aloud, looking at it.

"No, he's..." Merlin rubbed his forehead. How did he get out of this one? "He's my grandfather."

Morgan took a step forwards, looking at him. "You've got the same eyes."

Merlin nodded. "Yeah, we do."

She looked down. "You're wearing his clothes."

Merlin mouthed wordlessly, trying to figure out what to tell her. "W-We, ah..."

"_Merlin,_" Arthur hissed.

"We're ah... Very close. We dress the same all the time," he nodded.

"Right," Morgan said, disbelieving.

"Yeah," Merlin stood with his hands behind his back, looking around awkwardly. "So... See ya!"

And with that, Merlin grabbed ahold of Arthur's wrist and bolted down the dock, dragging a stumbling Arthur behind him.

"_Mer_lin!"

"Just run!"

"_Hey_!" Morgan yelled after them.

Merlin could tell that Morgan had made no action of pursuit, but he didn't stop running. He had hoped to warn Arthur a bit before flinging him into a world of modern technology and the vast unknown, but that plan had already flown out the window. Merlin could only think to get Arthur back to his apartment (which was mostly void of any advanced technology) as quickly as possible so as to not make the once and future king go through a terrible amount of culture shock.

Arthur ran alongside him, a little off-balance, having not used his legs in a thousand years. Merlin kept a sure grasp on Arthur's wrist, leading him down the sidewalk. They ran without incident for a minute when a car, a big red truck, whirled around the corner. Out of instinct, Arthur wrenched his arm from under Merlin's grasp, grabbed onto the front of Merlin's shirt, and pulled him back and behind a hedge, pushing Merlin's back up against the greenery and putting his own body over his past-servant's defensively. Arthur watched with wild eyes as the truck passed, the wind that the truck caused as it sped past making the front of Arthur's hair blow back from his forehead. The truck turned the corner, but Arthur refused to move from his protective position over Merlin until he couldn't hear the truck's engine any longer, but still stayed close, his eyes looking into Merlin's for some form of explanation.

"Arthur, it's alright," Merlin tried to soothe the man who was out of his time, and, very obviously, his element. "It's just a truck, perfectly safe. You don't have to defend me," he said, pushing on Arthur's chest lightly with his hand. "And I'm supposed to be the one protecting you, remember?"

When Arthur had calmed enough to think straight again, he let out his pent-up breath, still looking deep into Merlin's eyes.

"I went through a thousand years without you, too, Merlin," he said quietly.

Merlin blinked up at Arthur. He had never thought of it that way, but he guessed that it held an element of truth. He nodded and put a hand on Arthur's shoulder.

"And we'll never have to do it again," he said firmly.

"How can you know that?" Arthur asked.

Merlin's jaw twitched and he swallowed, letting his hand fall from Arthur's shoulder. "Because I wouldn't be able to do it again." He shook his head, looking down. "Never again."

Arthur watched his friend as the latter tried to suppress his again-raising emotions. He now realized just what waiting a thousand years had meant. Merlin had to watch everyone he loved die. He had to adjust to the technology that Arthur now saw was extremely advanced from his time. He had to simply _wait_, all on the promise that Arthur would return, but he didn't even know when, how long he would have to wait. Merlin had done all this... for _him_. This went beyond the duty of a servant to his master, a subject to his king, even a friend to a friend. This was something extraordinary, something only someone like Merlin would be capable of. To be able to just _wait, _year after year...

As if he had read his mind, Merlin shook his head. "It wasn't the years that I had to live that I couldn't do again, Arthur," he swallowed again. "It's the living in a world where you don't exist. I would kill myself before I had to go through that again."

A sharp pain snapped across Merlin's cheek. He let out a sound of pain, holding his hand to his cheek, looking at the only possible source of the pain: Arthur, who was pointing at him sternly, a deadly look in his blue eyes.

"Don't ever talk like that," he growled. "_Ever_, you understand?"

Merlin was taken slightly aback. "Y-Yes, sire."

"No one is worth you— doing that. Especially not me."

"Especially you!" Merlin responded immediately. "You're the once and future king! Camelot needs you! Even if none of that were true, I'd still do it, Arthur. I was only able to get through those thousand years because I knew that you would return. But if you die, there's no promise you would come back again." He seemed to come to his senses and he looked back out onto the road, clasping his hands behind him out of nervous habit.

"I can't let you even think like that," Arthur said. "Because that means that you've already accepted a fate, one that would remove your presence from this world. Merlin, look at me."

Merlin allowed his eyes to meet Arthur's once again.

"Truth is, Merlin, I need you. I need you probably a hell of a lot more than you need me. Even before I knew that you were protecting me all that time..." he trailed off, shaking his head. "Just, don't, okay?"

"Okay."

"Swear it."

"As long as you do."

"Alright," Arthur stood proud in front of Merlin. "I swear, Merlin, to stand by your side as long as you shall live."

A pull of a smile made the corner of Merlin's mouth twitch. "And I swear to you, Arthur, to protect you just as I always have, and I'll stand by your side as long as you shall live."

And they shook on it.

.

.

.

Arthur looked around him, holding the cup of what Merlin had called 'iced coffee' in his hands, sitting outside of a little cafe. He saw the homes, the cars, the television screens, the people walking down the street, girls in men's clothing chatting on phones that they pressed against the sides of their faces. It was peaceful, a warm summer day. However foreign this part of his life felt to him, it still felt complete, because of the scrawny twig of a man sitting across from him. He felt that, no matter what strange world he found himself in, no matter how many carnations he went through, he would always feel comfortable and whole as long as Merlin was by his side.

He traced patterns on his cup from the condensation as a question that had been nagging at him since he woke in that tower a month ago finally coming into manifestation. "Why was I resurrected?"

Merlin looked at him, tilting his head.

"I know what had been predicted with my death, I just..." he looked around him once again, watching the world pass him by. "Albion doesn't look to be in dire straights."

"I don't know," Merlin admitted.

Arthur looked back to Merlin, the way that they were sitting with their arms on the table and their cups in between them reminding him vaguely of that day outside of the labyrinth. That day he had told Merlin that he was glad that he was there, and each and every day since he had felt like reminding him of that fact, especially now. But he never had, only ever saying 'thank you' to him on the day he died. And that was one of his greatest regrets. Something in Merlin's eyes, however, told Arthur that he had already forgiven him for it long ago.

"But one thing's for certain," Merlin said, staring right into Arthur's eyes. "Our destinies are not over."

_**~fin~**_


End file.
